


King of the Western Wood

by be_themoon



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-16
Updated: 2011-03-16
Packaged: 2017-10-17 01:12:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/171328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/be_themoon/pseuds/be_themoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes the wardrobe is the only place they feel safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	King of the Western Wood

Edmund's eyes snapped open as he awoke, slowly adjusting the dimness of the dark bedroom he shared with Peter. He'd been dreaming, he realized after a moment, and as the memories of the dream slowly snapped into place in his mind, he groaned, rolling over in bed and pulling his pillow over his head. For a long several minutes he was completely still, willing himself not to get up.

Well, just to the bathroom, he reasoned to himself, and sat up in bed, pretending that he was only putting on his boots because... well, because. There wasn't any real reason to wear them, but then, you never knew what would happen, right?

You only knew what you hoped would happen.

Deep in his heart, Edmund knew he wasn't going to the bathroom. He was taking the other hall, the one that led up and then down a few steps, to a hall with three doors, two of them locked. He was going in the third door, the candle in his hand flickering in the air that coiled around it as he opened the door. And then he couldn't pretend any more, not even to himself. The Just King should not lie, he told himself sternly, and then walked forward anyways, so quickly that the candle in his hand blew out in a few seconds.

The handle to the wardrobe was cold, and he hesitated before opening it gently. Placing the candle down, he crawled in, hand in front of him as he held his breath. There was a gentle thump as his hand hit the back of the wardrobe, and he exhaled, resting motionless for a moment before he pulled himself the rest of the way and sat, back to the hard wood that separated him from Narnia. His head dropped back with a gentle thud and he breathed deep of the air of the wardrobe, which to him still tasted of Narnia and magic and the Western Woods it had once led to, the realm of King Edmund the Just.

The door to the wardrobe opened, and Susan pushed aside the coats. Surprise painted her face as she saw him, and she blushed and then came in anyway, pulling the door partly shut behind her.

“You come here too?” she said softly. Edmund scooted over a little, and she sat beside him, leaning her head back.

“Sometimes,” he said. “When I dream of there, or everything hurts too much.”

Susan looked down at her hands, twisted together in her lap, pale white against the dark of her fabric like the stars in the sky, and said nothing for a long moment. Edmund waited, content with the silence.

“Sometimes,” Susan said after a long moment. “If I close my eyes and I pretend hard enough, it smells like Narnia.” His glance was startled for a moment.

“What do you smell?” he asked. She looked up at him, suddenly smiling.

“The wildflowers of the south,” she said. “Queen Susan’s flowers.” She closed her eyes, and her face in the dim light looked suddenly like the Queen he had once known. “There,” she said softly. “Can you smell them?” Edmund closed his eyes and breathed deep, and there it was, mixed with the pine scent of his woods.

“Yes,” he said softly. He opened his eyes again, and then stood up. “Come on, Su,” he said gently. “Time to go.” She took his hand and stood up too, and together they left the wardrobe.

Edmund did not wake the next night, not even when he dreamed of Narnia, but when he woke in the morning there was a lingering smell of pine needles and snow, and just a whiff of the golden wildflowers of the South.


End file.
